#JUNGWON HAD ME ON A CHOKEHOLD | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yeongwonie · 3 years ago

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lost cause — yang jungwon

tags. high school au, friends(?) to lovers, slow burn warnings. cursing, one mention of piss

word count. 8.5k

note. thank u in advance for reading! i’m kind of nervous about posting this but i hope you enjoy and look forward to more writing from me in the future :))

playlist. MIMI by youra, 몰랐어 (just a little bit) by enhypen, 긴밤 by seori ft. GIRIBOY

masterlist

SYNOPSIS. since your brief friendship with your crush, yang jungwon, ended in radio silence, you’ve been determined to keep him at arm’s length. jungwon, convinced that you’ve grown to hate him during your months of disconnection, is equally as determined to win you back.

IT’S ALMOST TOO EASY, FALLING for Yang Jungwon.

Between the way his dimples poke into his cheeks when even a hint of a smile crosses his face and the sound of his laughter breaking through the murmur of the cafeteria every so often, the amount of time you spend reminiscing such menial details shows how much of a chokehold the boy has on your mind.

Even in the classroom, he’s diligent and well-spoken in a way that can only be described as admirable. Although the two of you are now freshly seniors, he’s been a shoo-in for class president quite literally since your first year. Although you’re always at the top of the class rank, Jungwon is never far behind, and one semester, he’d even taken the top spot for a few weeks.

Not only does he excel in every subject, but he’s also insanely sociable, which is something you lack. Your mind drifts back to the prior Valentine’s day, when the poor underclassman volunteer had spent 10 minutes handing out his candy grams alone. Or the day he’d gotten a homecoming proposal during every single passing period. It’s honestly a miracle the popularity hasn’t inflated his ego.

You’d formally met Jungwon two years prior when you’d been partnered together for a history project. Initially, literal chills had shot up your spine when the pairings were announced.

You were terrified that Jungwon would slack off and leave you to do all the work, or worse, that he’d be the nicest person ever and you’d let him down and he’d never want to work with you ever again. The two of you ended up talking for hours over a video call the same night, long after the project had been finished.

Three weeks later, you’d realized your feelings. In your mind, putting distance between you and him was the best solution. Jungwon was all kinds of unattainable, and you almost felt bad every time you texted him, the little voice in the back of your mind telling you that he had more important things to be doing and that you were a hindrance.

Your relationship dwindled down to waves in the hallway, then to brief eye contact, then nothing at all. You doubt you even passed the classmate-zone in his mind.

Nothing much changes, when you and Jungwon stop talking. You both continue your studies, you and him remain at the top of your class rankings, and you push your feelings aside.

You spend a year completely fine without having Jungwon in any of your classes to distract you, and the second you’re sat next to him, you fall back into your old ways.

In the year that you don’t speak, Yang Jungwon gets all the more intelligent. Unfortunately, his intelligence also comes with a keen sense of observation. You can’t stare at his side profile, one seat away, without him noticing.

You find this out slightly too late.

“Need something?” he inquires, with a smile so polite it almost hurts.

It’s so weird speaking to him again, with the thick curtain of awkwardness strung up between the two of your chairs. You feel more like a student asking a teacher for help with a math problem than a classmate talking to another.

“Oh, um. I’m good, Sorry,” you stutter out, turning your head back to stare down at your notes so quickly you almost get whiplash.

Five minutes ago, your teacher had seated you next to Jungwon, and not even halfway into the class period, you already want to move.

The said teacher walks to the front of the room and addresses the class with a tight-lipped smile.

“Tell the person sitting next to you about one fun thing you did over break,” she says, then promptly sits at her desk and opens a book. You’re not surprised; the first day of school means playing random icebreakers in every single period, even though your entire class has known each other for years now.

Slowly, you turn back around to face Jungwon, forcing your eyes to meet his. You’re only able to hold his sharp gaze for a few seconds before fixing your stare on your fiddling hands.

“Do you want me to go first?” Jungwon mercifully asks (although you feel slightly ashamed, knowing he sensed your discomfort).

“Sure.”

“I just started a few college applications, but I think that’s about it,” he chuckles.

You nod; probably 99% of your classmates are saying the same thing, which is why your teacher’s choice in question is so ridiculous.

“And I played with my dog.”

“Aww, that’s nice, where are you applying?” you ask, smiling softly at the last comment. He’s still as endearing as ever, unfortunately.

“The usual, I guess. SNU, Daegu, Gwangju. I applied to a couple in the U.S. too, but I doubt I’ll even get in.”

“Of course you’ll get in, I can totally see you at Harvard or something,” you smile. You don’t even have to lie, if anyone can get into such a prestigious school, it’s your class president.

“I think you think too highly of me,” he says, finally breaking the one-sided eye contact to glance up at the front of the classroom. “What about you, where are you applying?”

Your conversation continues until the end of the period, with Jungwon picking up all of the slack that you leave in your nervous state. Eventually, your comments start to flow more naturally, as they had those months ago through the FaceTime call plastered in your head to this day.

It’s sort of unfair, the way he makes you feel like he actually cares about what major you’re planning on pursuing, giving you false hope that this could turn into something more. That’s what everyone else thinks, you suppose, and then they end up as one of the discarded candy grams or the homecoming posters sitting in the trash.

So yes, it’s way too easy, falling for Jungwon, especially when you know firsthand that getting over him is one of the hardest feats in the world.

☆☆☆☆☆

YANG JUNGWON CAN’T FIGURE OUT why you dislike him.

He would even consider you a friend, despite the distinct lack of interactions between you two, save for that one history project a year or so back. You had been surprisingly easy to talk to, and Jungwon would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little sad when your conversations grew drier and eventually subsided.

He knows the two of you were buried in work, thanks to the ever-looming prospect of college applications on the horizon during your junior year. But still, it wouldn’t hurt for you to not act like he’d hit your dog with a car every time you make eye contact.

Jungwon knows what you’re normally like. He’s seen you with your friends; how you act when you don’t think he’s watching you. But the second your eyes meet his, your posture stiffens and your face twists into discomfort, as though being within a one-meter radius of him is equivalent to being dunked head first into a tub of ice water.

Sure, there are plenty of people with valid reasons for hating him, he thinks. People who project their insecurities about their grades or their social life onto him, who paint him out to be some perfect valedictorian golden boy. Or the people he’d had to reject in the weeks leading up to homecoming (he had nothing against them personally, honestly, but he’d have felt too bad choosing one person out of dozens he really didn’t know that well, and there was no way having 20 dates to homecoming would go well).

But, you don’t seem to be either of those things. Your own grades are pretty good, good enough to rival his own, and there’s a distinct lack of your name on all of the love letters he’s received in the past few years.

“I’m sure they don’t hate you, Jungwon,” Heeseung says. The older boy bumps his shoulder, breaking him out of his daze as his eyes continue following you down the hallway. It’s a little scary that Heeseung knows what he’s thinking, although he’s sure the way his eyes trace over your every step makes it a little more obvious.

“I don’t know. What if they’re mad that we stopped talking?”

“Didn’t you say it was mutual? I’m sure they understand how busy you were—they were probably just as busy.”

“I guess,” Jungwon’s voice trails off as he readjusts the strap of his book bag on his shoulder like a soldier, bracing for combat. In long, measured strides, he follows you into the classroom, making sure to greet the teacher standing by the door with a kind smile before scanning the room.

Jungwon’s a little scared to choose a seat. You’re probably the only person he’s had more than one sentence of exchange with in this class, but the months of radio silence between the two of you has built you up in his mind to be some sort of intimidating shadow figure.

Typically he’d just pick another seat, branch out, make new friends. But, at every single other pair of seats, there is at least one girl who has sent him a candy gram or sent him a love letter or even confessed in person in the last 24 months. There are still empty seats, but somehow leaving his partner for the rest of the year up to the hands of fate seems even more formidable.

Basically, Jungwon spends about 45 seconds standing at the front of the classroom, doing mental gymnastics to justify taking the seat next to you, before his legs actually walk him towards where you sit.

As he sets his book bag down and slides into the metal chair, he feels your eyes flit over his frame. Steeling himself, Jungwon turns to face you, but you’re already looking away, hyperfocused on the whiteboard, then the teacher, then the clock ticking on the wall.

He doesn’t know if he’s relieved or terrified when the teacher announces an icebreaker activity. On one hand, it’s the perfect opportunity to talk to you and prove that he’s not the asshole he’s sure you see him as. On the other hand, something about the way you purse your lips at the announcement is insanely intimidating, and a flash of doubt shoots again through his mind.

But he refuses to let this period go to waste. Yang Jungwon will not spend the entire period sitting in awkward silence, especially when the conversation had once flowed so easily. Hesitantly, he begins, telling you briefly about what he’d done over the summer break.

By the end of the period, Jungwon has to bite back a wide grin now that you’re talking to him again. He’s not sure why this fact relieves him as much as it does, maybe you’re a representation of simpler times in his mind, when he wasn’t so worried about the future (or maybe he just missed talking to you).

By the time the boy waves goodbye to you and steps back out into the hallway, he has only one goal in mind. Jungwon is determined to become friends with you again, even if it takes him until graduation.

☆☆☆☆☆

TWO DAYS LATER, YOU DON’T think you’re making any progress. Jungwon is still cute, and you still want to rip your hair out every time his eyes meet yours.

You tell yourself you no longer care what he thinks about you, yet you start waking up earlier and taking extra care while buttoning your uniform and tying your tie in the mornings. The thought of walking into your literature class fills your stomach with equal parts of excitement and dread.

Tapping your foot slowly against the tile flooring of the classroom, you keep your eyes focused straight forward. You’re almost militant about avoiding eye contact with Jungwon unless absolutely necessary now.

You feel a nudge against your shoulder.

“Do you want me to share the lab notes with you?” Jungwon asks, bearing his signature smile. Your brain is split in half between wanting to poke his cheeks and wanting to scream in frustration.

“Yeah. Thank you,” you reply stiffly, missing the way the corners of his mouth drop just a fraction.

You open your laptop with one hand, then grab a pencil in the other. Today’s classwork is relatively easy, typing out observations on some pictures of various plants under a microscope. Your fingers switch between flying across your keyboard and writing in your notebook as your mind drifts elsewhere.

“Woah, that looks so cool. Can you teach me?” Jungwon murmurs, his voice cutting through the daze of your tired brain so early in the morning.

You stare at him, then down at your hands, finally realizing you’d been spinning your pencil. As you look down, Jungwon winces in embarrassment, letting what he’d said replay in his head. He probably sounded like an idiot, and now you’d ask the teacher to move seats and ignore him for the rest of the year.

“Um, yeah. I learned it from a Youtube video like three years ago, so I might not be the best teacher.”

Positioning your pencil in your hand (and praying the slight quivering of your fingers isn’t visible), you look down at Jungwon’s hands to make sure he’s copying you. You demonstrate how to bend your fingers to make the pencil spin around, then stifle a laugh as he fails on his first, second, third, and fourth attempts at following suit.

“Here,” you say, adjusting his grip on the pencil with a feather-light touch.

Jungwon swallows before attempting to give the pencil a slow spin. The grin makes its way back across his face as the pencil actually moves instead of flying out of his grip.

“There you go,” you smile, turning back to continue typing on the document. Jungwon’s eyes linger on your profile for just a second more before he, too, returns to his work.

While you sigh, frustrated at your lack of success less than a week into the school year (because despite your efforts, the feel of Jungwon’s hands against your own was definitely still enough to make your heart race), the boy seated next to you replays the memory of your fingers brushing against his own.

Jungwon thinks that if things continue like this, you’ll be best friends by the end of the month.

☆☆☆☆☆

BY THE NINTH DAY OF your senior year, you are wholeheartedly convinced your literature teacher is trying to kill you.

“Who the hell assigns a partner project one week into the school year?” you scoff under your breath, copying down the rubric into your notebook and pressing extra hard with your pencil into the paper out of spite.

Thankfully, the period ends right after your teacher, Mrs. Park, gives her announcement. You need a little time to process the situation before you can even think about facing your seatmate. Jungwon thinks about staying with you after class for a bit, just to discuss what time you’ll work on your slideshow and script, but you’re already rushing out the door.

He’s a bit disappointed, but you seem frantic to get to your next period. And besides, he has a whole week to talk to you and get the project sorted out. Jungwon lets himself worry for the five minutes between class periods, then moves on.

☆☆☆☆☆

“I THINK YOU SHOULD TRY just being friends,” Sunoo suggests later that day, completely aware that your gaze has been stuck on Jungwon for the past 10 minutes. Even though you and Jungwon have been speaking more and more in class and you’re now able to hold a conversation without picking at your nails or bouncing your leg frenetically, you’re sure a literary analysis project will undo any progress you’ve made.

“Yeah, because being friends with Jungwon turned out so well for me last time,” you groan, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands.

“I don’t know, it could be like exposure therapy or something. I just don’t think this whole ignoring him and then screaming at me over the phone about how cute he is every night is working. I could be wrong, though.” At this, you shove him in the arm, causing his light chuckles to turn to full-on giggles.

“I don’t scream about him,” you protest, brows furrowing as your friend eyes you sideways before turning back to his food.

“Sure, and I don’t have pink hair,” Sunoo sighs as you stab at your rice with your pair of chopsticks. “Don’t you think you’re, like, putting him on a pedestal? That boy is literally a puppy dog. The little white ones with the crusty eyes.”

You know Sunoo’s right. He knows you know he’s right, too, and he’s way too smug about your clear internal conflict.

“Maybe you’re right. People always say you can’t be friends with someone you’re attracted to, so maybe if we become friends I’ll finally get over it.”

“I don’t think that’s what that means, but yeah!”

Deep down, you know it won’t be such a simple fix. But, you also feel incredibly guilty, meeting Jungwon’s attempts at conversation with terse replies and avoiding his gaze at all costs.

Across the cafeteria, Jungwon is having an incredibly similar conversation.

When he tells Lee Heeseung about his predicament, his senior stares at him for a solid 30 seconds.

“Hey, are you gonna give me advice, or what?” Jungwon complains, waving a hand in front of the elder’s face.

“Sorry, I just don’t see what the issue is. Your project partner isn’t making enough eye contact with you?”

“Stop making me sound stupid. I want things to go back to normal. Y/N and I used to just click, but now they’re acting like we barely know each other,” he says. Heeseung eyes the younger boy, whose brows are drawing closer together, skeptically.

“I don’t know, from what you’ve told me it just sounds kind of awkward. But that’s pretty normal, you guys haven’t spoken in a long time.”

Jungwon’s brow furrows even more.

“Okay, here’s what you’re gonna do.” Heeseung pulls out a spiral-bound notebook and tears a page of lined paper from the binding. After rummaging for a pen and uncapping it, he begins to write:

“1. text Y/N about the project

2. invite them on a study date”

“Date?” Jungwon interjects, and Heeseung rolls his eyes. He adds “(platonic)” onto the end of the line before continuing.

“3. get an A

4. go out to celebrate somewhere

5. friends!!”

Heeseung finishes the list with an obscene amount of smiley faces after the final step before sliding the paper over to the boy next to him. Jungwon regrets asking for help in the first place.

“Thanks, I guess. I was going to do most of this anyway.”

Heeseung flicks Jungwon’s forehead, then stands and stretches out his legs. “No way, you probably would’ve gotten nervous and then done the entire thing by yourself.”

“No, I swear. Here, watch,” Jungwon whispers as he sees you approaching the same doors. He tugs Heeseung by the arm through the swarms of his classmates, eyes never leaving you. Once he’s close enough, he sets the first phase of the plan into motion. His hands are only a little bit sweaty as they fiddle behind his back.

“Hi, Y/N” he calls out, adding a small wave.

His bright voice makes your head snap up. When your eyes finally fall on his face, you want to bang your head against a wall.

“Hi, Jungwon,” you reply before remembering what Sunoo had told you. “Do you wanna start planning out our presentation tonight?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” He’s a little shocked (but even more relieved) that you’re carrying out his part of the plan all on your own. “I’ll text you?”

“Sounds good.”

After a momentary pause, you continue on your path to your math class, thinking about looking back at Jungwon’s retreating form but never actually doing so because you still have some little sliver of self-control.

Jungwon grins at Heeseung, who gives him a thumbs up. The list remains safely in his pocket.

☆☆☆☆☆

AT 10:13 PM, JUNGWON SITS on his duvet and kneads his lower lip between his teeth. Your contact is open, the last message sent from over a year ago glaring back in mockery. For some reason, it’s so hard to come up with a way to say “Hey, do you want to work on the project right now?” without throwing his phone across the room.

Suddenly, three dots appear, as you’ve started typing out a message of your own. Jungwon nearly leaps off of his bed.

“hey, r u free to work rn?”

Grinning like an idiot, he starts typing out a reply, fingers flying at light speed over the screen of his phone.

Like Jungwon, you sit perched on your own bed, phone in your hands (which are quickly growing clammy). You reread the message you’ve just sent, searching for any spelling errors and contemplating if you’d been too informal or too forward with your wording (even though it was only 7 words). For two minutes, you wait, opting to put your phone down and look around your room, but still picking the device back up every 10 seconds to check for notifications. Eventually, you get a reply.

“yeah, fs! i’ll share a doc w/ u :)”

Satisfied, you flip open your school-issued laptop and click on the new link in your email, smiling when you’re greeted with a blank page and Jungwon’s cursor blinking on the screen. As diligently as would be expected of the student council president, Jungwon begins typing, listing out ideas for your presentation topic, and occasionally texting you to clarify specific details.

At first, your exchange is a little awkward, neither of you wanting to cross the careful boundary between project partners and friends just yet. But, as the night stretches on, you find yourself falling back into the same comfort you had years ago. It’s a little aggravating, seeing firsthand how you still click so easily with Jungwon.

At 12:45, you’re complaining about your various annoying teachers and your coursework. The project remains long forgotten; the two of you had done far more than you’d needed to anyways, seeing as the whole thing is due in 2 weeks.

Suddenly, Jungwon remembers the lined piece of paper, folded up and sitting on his desk. It’s not explicitly written in the plan, but things have been going so well tonight, and he slowly types out a new message. It sits in the little bar below the chat for a solid 30 seconds before he winces and clicks send.

“after we present and get a perfect score, we should go out and celebrate!!”

“what if we don’t get a perfect score?” you reply quickly, though you know better than to doubt the abilities of Yang Jungwon.

“we will.” he shoots back, and you smile a little at the addition of a “>:(” at the end.

At 1:09, you move on to the topic of family and learn that Jungwon has an older sister. By 1:27, you’re back to the topic of colleges, but this time, you find camaraderie in your and Jungwons’ mutual fear of the future and what lies after graduation.

And by 1:58, when you’ve started checking for notifications a little too frequently for your liking, because yes, you are still desperately trying to push any romantic attraction toward Jungwon out of your head, you power your phone off and force your eyes shut. Sleep eludes you until 2:36.

Once you stop replying, Jungwon sets his phone down beside him and flops onto his back. He closes his eyes and breathes in, then out.

A smile crosses his face as he falls asleep.

☆☆☆☆☆

OVER THE NEXT WEEK AND a half, you and Jungwon fall into a routine. During lunch, you spare no small amount of glances his way. By the time the sun sets, his messages fill your hours until you break away from your phone to go to sleep. When you wake up and go to school, he’s waiting for you, never failing to be one of the first few students to arrive in class.

Your resolve crumbles a little more with each passing day.

And now, you’ve allowed him to infiltrate your afternoons. Sunday, three days before your project is due, the two of you meet up to practice presenting. Jungwon had offered up his house, seeing as he’d have the place to himself for the afternoon and early evening, and instantly, sirens went off in your brain. Eventually, you resigned—you know firsthand just how persistent Jungwon could be. And, as if that weren’t enough, he’d bribed you with pictures of his dog.

You and Jungwon sit on the wooden floor of the small study tucked into the corner of his house, slideshow pulled up on the laptop that rests in the space between the two of you.

The door is left ajar, allowing Maeumi—Jungwon’s dog that somehow has the exact same energy as he does—to walk in and out on occasion. Maeumi, who is the only reason you’d agreed to come, rather than insisting on working in the library or a cafe or even over video call.

Being inside Jungwon’s house is so nerve-wracking. It’s not the classroom, or the hallways, or the cafeteria, the places you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing him in. There’s no screen separating you from him, allowing you to hide behind carefully thought-out messages or a well-timed sleep schedule.

There’s just you (sitting cross-legged on the floor and trying so hard to take up as little space as possible that your legs are starting to hurt) and Jungwon, whose catlike eyes seem to peer into your soul.

“Okay, let’s run through the whole thing and time it to see if we need to cut anything out,” Jungwon begins after clearing his throat.

“Sounds good,” you mumble, reaching for the mouse plugged into your laptop to scroll to the top of your shared script.

Jungwon has the same idea.

You feel his hand bump into yours as you rest it over the mouse, and you swear you’re getting heart palpitations even though you’re near 18 years old and absolutely should not be getting so hung up over something as simple as touching fingertips. Quickly, both your and Jungwon’s hands shoot back into your laps, and you take great interest in examining the frames lining the walls of the office. Your ears and cheeks burn in embarrassment.

Hesitantly, Jungwon moves his hand back and scrolls up, and you open a stopwatch on your phone. With a nod, you signal your partner to begin speaking and click play.

“Hello everyone, I’m Jungwon, and this is my partner,” he trails off, leaving the end of the sentence for you to complete, as you’d planned. Instead, you stare at the screen of your laptop, chewing your lower lip.

As the silence registers in your mind, your eyes widen.

“Sorry, I, uh, got distracted rereading the script.

“All good, let’s try again?”

With a nod, you restart the stopwatch. The two of you make it exactly four more lines before your rehearsal is once again brought to a halt. This time, Jungwon is the one who forgets to chime in with his part, instead opting to stare at the floor.

“Jungwon,” you whisper. His ears start to match yours in color.

“Sorry.”

You think that if you can get through today without embarrassing yourself any further, the presentation on Friday will be a walk in the park.

Just as you take a deep breath in, mentally preparing yourself for a third try, Maeumi trots in. The small, white dog wags his tail and runs up to Jungwon, and the project is thrown to the back of your mind.

“Hi, Maeumi,” Jungwon coos, and you reach out a hand to stroke the dog’s fur. At this, Maeumi starts to leap around, excited about seeing the new guest in the house for a second time.

Jungwon stands up, smiling softly and saying he’ll find some treats for you to give the dog. Once he’s on his feet, Maeumi perks up, walks into the center of the room, and starts to pee on the floor.

Jungwon’s smile drops. He looks like he wants to die.

“Shit shit shit. I’m so sorry, he doesn’t usually do this,” he cries, grabbing your arms and ushering you out of the office.

Once the two of you and your laptop are safely outside, standing in the narrow hallway lit by the afternoon sun streaming through the windows, Jungwon’s shoulders slump and he releases his grasp. His lips pull into an even deeper frown and his brows draw closer together.

You look at him, then back through the doorway into the room, and your lips quiver. He looks so distressed, but you can’t help it as laughter wracks your body. Soon enough, Jungwon joins in, and the two of you remain in the hallway, chests hurting and cheeks aching from smiling too hard.

“Um, I’m gonna go clean that up,” Jungwon chuckles as your laughter dies down. “We can just work in my room.”

You nod, and he directs you up the stairs and into a small room. You sit down a little hesitantly on the bed at his suggestion, and then he bolts out of the room, presumably to find paper towels.

Jungwon’s room is somehow exactly as you’d pictured it (not that you spend your free time imagining what Jungwon’s bedroom looks like, obviously). A few pictures are scattered across the white walls, and a navy blue duvet is draped over the full-sized bed. The white desk positioned in the corner of the room is spotless, scattered with a few sheets of paper and a desktop.

A few minutes later, Jungwon finally trudges into the room and collapses down onto the bed, hand covering his face. He peeks through his fingers at you, sitting next to him, and promptly starts giggling again.

Jungwon notices you look a lot less tense, relieving the tight feeling of anxiety in his chest and making his stomach flutter (in relief, he tells himself). He supposes he has Maeumi to thank for cutting through the previously awkward atmosphere, even if it did mean he had to clean up dog pee. He pushes himself up so that he’s upright and peers over your shoulder at your laptop, which rests in your lap.

Your eyes flicker to his face, a few inches away from yours, so close that if you were to turn your heads at the same time, you’d be touching.

“Let’s just run through it first, yeah? We can time it after.”

Stiffly, you nod.

This time, the rehearsal goes without a hitch. Once you’ve said your final line, you both pause, faces breaking out into two matching grins.

Jungwon pulls you into a brief hug, arms tightening around yours. You’re stunned for a second, and then you’re reciprocating, wrapping your own arms around his waist and giving him a quick squeeze before you both pull away.

“See, I told you we’re gonna get a perfect score,” he says as he resituates himself on the bed.

“We better, isn’t it worth like 15% of our grade now?”

Despite your first impressions of Mrs. Park, the woman knew all too well that more than half the class would slack off once college applications were submitted and their grades no longer held as much importance. It adds a whole new layer of stress to the already nerve-wracking project, but you’re just glad it’s happening now, rather than in a few months, when the entire year will be focused solely on their future schools. You’re also glad you have someone like Jungwon.

You’ve decided the two of you work well together. And you’re beginning to hope that he feels the same.

☆☆☆☆☆

DESPITE ALL OF YOUR DOUBTS, Jungwon is right. Your presentation is probably the best run-through you and he have done, and at the end, you see Mrs. Park’s genuine smile for the first time this year.

As you both return to your seats so the next group can go, Jungwon shoots you a smug look, and you can hear his voice in your head saying he told you so. As you watch the pair of students standing near the whiteboard, Jungwon slips you a bright orange sticky note.

“do u still wanna celebrate later?” is scrawled across the slip of paper in looping handwriting. You shift so that you can write your own reply underneath.

“we haven’t gotten our scores yet”

Jungwon frowns at your pessimism.

“did u not see mrs. park smile??? we def got a 100”

“wtv u say”

He unsticks the note from the table once you’re finished writing and resticks it in front of himself. Then, he moves his arm so that you can’t see what he’s writing. Annoyed, you face forward and actually start paying attention to your classmates’ analysis of the poem you don’t know the title of. Jungwon taps his pen to his lips a few times, deeply contemplating his next words.

Eventually, he sticks the note directly in front of you, then swivels to the front, watching your reaction out of the corner of his eye.

“are u free friday at like 7”

You’re a little surprised as you read it; you hadn’t expected Jungwon to actually stand by his suggestion of celebrating after the project ended. You would consider him a friend now, but you didn’t think he’d actually voluntarily want to spend time with you outside of class if not for schoolwork.

“think so,” You write back, trying your hardest to sound noncommittal. The last thing you want to do is turn down the implied invitation, but your palms are sweating a little and your handwriting is a little shakier than normal at the thought.

“great, you’re coming over,” Jungwon pens with finality, effectively shutting down any protests you might give as he grabs his backpack. It’s then you realize that the period has ended, and you watch his retreating figure strut out of the classroom in slight awe.

With a few seconds delay, you also make your way out of the classroom, meeting Sunoo in the hall to walk to your second class of the day.

“Jungwon just asked me to hang out again,” you immediately tell your best friend as you start to walk side-by-side down the hallway. “At his house.” When Sunoo sees your grin, his eyes immediately narrow teasingly.

“What happened to becoming friends so you can get over him?” he drawls, and you immediately look away. “It’s fine, I’m sure he likes you back at this point.”

You almost choke.

“What are you talking about?”

“He asked you out literally five minutes ago and you’re acting like I’m crazy?” Sunoo says incredulously, crossing his arms.

Luckily, you’re only a few feet from your next class. Sunoo glares as you wave to your teacher and practically skip into the classroom. Soon enough, you get a text message from the said boy.

“u know i’m right.”

You roll your eyes and tuck your phone back into your pocket.

The next three hours are spent with you completely tuning out the various lectures and wrestling with your own thoughts. Part of you does know Sunoo’s right; knows that there has to be some deeper meaning behind the lingering glances and touches shared between you and Jungwon. The other part believes that such a thing is impossible, and that you’re delusional for even entertaining the idea.

By the time your lunch period arrives, you’ve psyched yourself out to the point where you think you’ll throw up if you see Jungwon in the hallway.

Of course, this is exactly what happens (besides the throwing up). Heeseung and Jungwon stand by a row of lockers, engaged in animated conversation. Thankfully, there are still more than a few other students walking through the halls, so you’re sure you’ll be able to pass by unnoticed. The two also seem extremely engaged in their own conversation. Jungwon looks a little flushed, while Heeseung wears the condescending grin you’ve seen far too many times on Sunoo’s face.

Briskly, you walk past, ducking your head down, but you’re still able to catch a snippet of their conversation with how loudly they’re speaking.

“See, I knew you guys would get an A,” Heeseung exclaims, clapping Jungwon on the shoulder. “My plan worked perfectly, you should listen to me more often.”

“Of course we did, Y/N’s one of the smartest people in our year,” Jungwon replies, swatting away his friend’s hand.

You nearly forget to keep walking. It feels as though your heart is sinking deep into your chest and pulling your lungs down with it, and you suddenly feel nauseous for an entirely different reason.

In your haste, you miss the second part of Jungwon and Heeseung’s conversation.

“You speak so highly of them,” Heeseung smiles, finally lowering his voice. “It’s nice.”

Jungwon’s eyes widen a little before he, too, starts to smile.

“I think very highly of them.”

“I don’t think you ever needed the plan, honestly,” Heeseung’s smile shifts from genuine back to teasing. You’re both whipped and it hasn’t even been a month.”

Jungwon hums in thought before closing his locker and briskly strutting down the hallway, leaving Heeseung standing a little dumbfounded for a moment before he follows.

During lunch, the last two people you want to see sit perfectly in your line of sight, as usual. Contrary to your normal routine, however, you refuse to look over and bear witness to Jungwon’s joyous laugh or his bright smile. Now that you know, you can’t help but feel he’s laughing at you.

If Sunoo notices your dramatic shift in attitude, he says nothing. It’s not that you don’t want to tell your best friend about what you’ve just heard, but the entire situation has filled you with humiliation so deep that you think you’ll need a few weeks to even admit to yourself that you’ve been completely played.

Eventually, the lunch period ends, and for the rest of the day, you solely think about Jungwon. The boy had occupied many of your thoughts before, but now, instead of reminiscing on his dimples or his cheerful voice, you’re stuck wondering how you’d gotten here in the span of a few hours.

The worst part is that Jungwon seemed so earnest when asking you to hang out just hours before. If you hadn’t overheard the conversation with your own two ears, you’re sure you wouldn’t have believed it.

As you lay in bed, ignoring the couple texts from Jungwon trying to start your usual idle evening conversation, you feel like an idiot.

☆☆☆☆☆

WHEN JUNGWON WAKES UP THE next morning to a distinct lack of a response to his messages from the night before, his heart sinks. He wants to believe that you just fell asleep early or were extra focused on a difficult assignment, but he can’t help the little voice in his head telling him he’d been too pushy the day before, and drove you away.

This fear is only confirmed when you sit down next to him. To your credit, you do respond to his little good-morning wave. But Jungown can see from a mile away that your smile is a little too forced, and your posture is completely closed off.

Rummaging through his backpack, he finds the pad of orange sticky notes and sticks one onto your shared desk. He uncaps his pen and writes in his looping handwriting.

“everything ok?”

When you read the note, you want to cry. You stare straight forward and give Jungwon a single, sharp nod. In your peripheral vision, you don’t see his shoulders slump as a frown is painted across his face.

Luckily, the rest of the period is taken up by more presentations, allowing you to look extremely invested in what your classmates are saying so that Jungwon doesn’t try to start any more conversation. When the bell rings, you quickly sling your bag over your shoulder and walk out. Jungwon peels the orange paper from the desk and crumples it into his pocket.

Jungwon hopes against hope that the sudden shift is temporary. He tells himself that maybe your phone has been broken for the past two days, or that your pet fish died and you’re just too deep in mourning to talk to anyone that isn’t Kim Sunoo.

But then he walks into the cafeteria and sees you and Sunoo, crowded around your phone screen and giggling at a video you’re showing him.

He envies Sunoo, your best friend since freshman year and probably since junior high. It’s becoming increasingly apparent that you and him are not meant for a friendship that lasts more than a month.

His messages still go unread. Your next shared class period on Friday morning is possibly the most awkward hour he’s spent, although he’s opted to join you in your vow of silence towards him.

It’s the final day of presentations, and after the class period ends, Mrs. Park says she’ll be releasing scores. Jungwon, who’d been insistent on your success from the beginning, doesn’t even want to check.

This time, he’s the first out of the two of you to leave the classroom. Even though you’re supposed to be angry, you’re equally concerned. You know that Jungwon cares about his grades just as much as you do.

As you’re gathering your notes, you hear heels clicking against the tile floor.

“Y/N, I just wanted to let you know that you and Jungwon gave the best presentation I’ve heard in years. You’ve both earned a perfect score, please tell him as well,” Mrs. Park tells you. At the moment, she looks strangely maternal, so different from the strict, tight-lipped woman you’d known for the past month.

“Thank you, Mrs. Park. I will.”

☆☆☆☆☆

FOR SOME REASON, YOU STILL show up to Jungwon’s house at 7 o’clock on the dot.

You ring the doorbell, still contemplating getting back in your car and driving home. Before you have the chance, the door swings open, leaving you face-to-face with Jungwon himself. He’s clad in plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt, looking at you as though flowers have started growing out of your head.

After he’s scanned you from head to toe, toe to head, and back down again, he steps aside and lets you enter.

“I didn’t have anything planned,” he mumbles. “I didn’t think you were still coming.”

“Sorry,” you say, because you can’t think of any other way to properly portray how you feel. And you do feel sorry; sorry that you realized too late, that you’re still so willing to show up at his doorstep even after learning the truth.

Jungwon ushers you into the living room and offers you a seat on the couch. Once you sit, he rushes into the kitchen, telling you he’ll be right back.

For the millionth time that week, you've left him completely and utterly confused.

As you listen to Jungwon pacing around the kitchen and flip through different movies with the remote, you begin to hear a faint tapping. When it grows louder, you peer out the window and are met with a rainstorm.

It’s already dark, and with the rain, you would feel completely uneasy attempting to drive home. You get the feeling all of your exits have been sealed.

When you finally decide on playing the first Harry Potter movie, Jungwon re-emerges from the kitchen holding two bowls of ramyeon.

“Here, I didn’t know if you wanted any so don’t feel like you have to finish it.”

“Thank you. Sorry,” you mumble again as you pull your bowl closer to you and pick up the pair of chopsticks resting on the side. The word is quickly becoming the only one in your personal dictionary.

Jungwon spends about three seconds seemingly deep in thought before reaching for the remote and pausing the movie.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers, turning to face you on the couch.

“Nothing, sorry,” you reply, chewing your lower lip and picking at the skin around your nails.

“Why do you keep saying sorry?” he continues, and you almost feel guilty with the way he looks at you.

Your mouth is completely dry. You can’t think of an answer.

Jungwon sighs. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

Then, before you can even blink, he’s out the door. You sit in slight shock for a few moments, wondering what the hell you’re supposed to do in a situation like this.

And suddenly, all of the sounds surrounding you rush back into your ears. It’s raining, probably harder than it’s rained all year. With the realization, you’re on your feet, slipping on your shoes and racing outside.

The neighborhood is dark, only dimly lit by streetlights. The moon is hidden behind the storm clouds.

Quickly, water soaks into your hair and clothes, the short sleeves and thin sweatpants doing nothing to keep out the frigid temperature.

You nearly cry when you see Jungwon, walking alone in the middle of the empty road, his figure growing smaller and smaller.

“Jungwon!” you call out, cupping your hands around your mouth in a futile attempt to magnify your voice amidst the torrents of rain pouring from the sky.

A few meters ahead, he pauses, shoulders heaving as he catches his breath. You can see the hesitation in his movements as he contemplates whether to turn around or keep walking away. Shivers start to run through your body.

“Jungwon, please,” your voice breaks, rasping from the frigid weather and the tears pricking your eyes.

Finally, he turns around. He inhales, exhales, opens his mouth, and you finally see Yang Jungwon lose his composure.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Y/N,” he says, with such a sharp look in his eyes that you’re almost taken aback. You grit your teeth. He starts walking closer.

“You,” he huffs, “are so confusing. We talk for the first time in a year, and you can’t even look at me. And then just when I think we’re finally becoming friends again, you completely shut me out.”

Your stomach clenches as remorse and anger simultaneously course through your bloodstream. You have to reassure yourself that no, you’re not being irrational, no matter how much you want to believe that Jungwon hadn’t just been using you.

“I’ve been trying, so hard, to talk to you,” he continues, each word accented with a step in your direction. “I can’t keep chasing after you when you’re making it so obvious that you want me to stop.”

“So why don’t you?” you hiss. “It’s not my fault you see me as some sort of extra credit assignment or something, right?”

You know you’re being unreasonable, but you’ve been wound so tightly this past week that you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Is class president not good enough for you? Do you have to make everyone fall in love with you to fuel your sick ego? I don’t want to be used to keep up your GPA.”

“What are you talking about? Do you really think I’m like that, after all these years?” He spits back at you. “I thought we were friends, but you really can’t trust me enough to believe that I would spend time with you just because I like being with you?”

“So then what did I hear you talking about on Wednesday? Your plan to get an A on the presentation?”

You can pinpoint the moment realization washes over his face like a bucket of ice-cold water.

“You heard—Heeseung, he,” Jungwon begins out, face quickly overtaken by remorse. His shoulders rise, then fall. “The only reason he came up with that stupid plan was because he knew I missed talking to you. I was…”

He runs a hand through his hair, the wet strands still clinging to his forehead.

“I was desperate, okay? I didn't want to lose you before I had a chance to figure this out.”

It feels like you’ve been punched in the lungs.

Even in the noise of the storm, his words sound out clearer than anything, resonating through your head like it’s an echo chamber.

“Sorry, I don’t really know what I’m saying,” he says after the silence stretches out indefinitely. You can see the wall separating the two of you slowly being built back up, right before your eyes. “I can, um, walk you home now. And then I’ll leave you alone.” You swallow.

“I’m sorry for not trusting you, Jungwon.”

“It’s okay,” he chuckles bitterly, still refusing to look straight at you.

Another pause.

“You didn’t lose it,” you whisper. It takes everything in you to keep your gaze off of your shoes as his eyes finally meet yours. “Your chance, I mean. I didn’t even know I had a chance with you, and I still couldn’t get over you after a whole year.”

The rain, the distant sounds of traffic, all of it goes completely silent, and the world stills around you.

Jungwon’s eyes search yours for one, two, three seconds, and then he’s curling his fingers around the collar of your soaked t-shirt, crushing his lips against yours, and breathing you in as the rain beats down on your backs. The tension seeps out of your body in waves as his features draw into a sweet smile.

Everything is so much, the now-soaked fabric of your clothes clinging to your skin, the feeling of his hands running up and down your bare arms, lacing around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer until you swear you can feel his heart pounding against your own.

Your fingers hover over his cheekbones before finally threading through his hair, and he shakily exhales into the kiss. You’re only a little satisfied that he feels equally as overwhelmed as you.

Eventually, the two of you pull apart, though you maintain the close proximity.

“You could’ve just told me, you know? Then I wouldn’t have wasted so much time trying to move on,” you tease, heart still soaring.

He ducks his head into the crook of your neck, and you feel his smile press against your skin.

“I know, I already feel stupid.”

“I think that’s an oxymoron or something,” you simper. “I should tell Mrs. Park her star student thinks he’s stupid.”

“You’re really annoying, you know,” he complains, lifting his head and dramatically sliding a hand down his face before turning around to glance along the road.

“Come on,” he says, holding out a hand for you to take. “Let’s go back before we both get hypothermia.”

Something in your chest flutters, and you smile for probably the hundredth time in the span of 10 minutes. Tugging on Jungwon’s hand to pull him towards you, you press a chaste kiss to his lips before releasing your grip and starting off down the sidewalk, giggling.

Maybe you’ll have to give up on getting over Yang Jungwon for a while.

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